


Horrible Evil Spiders From Outer Space Have Invaded the Earth! (Oh No!)

by misura



Category: Black Books
Genre: Alien Invasion, Dark Comedy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 09:39:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4474457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Graaaurgh!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horrible Evil Spiders From Outer Space Have Invaded the Earth! (Oh No!)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brutti_ma_buoni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutti_ma_buoni/gifts).



Tap-tap-tap the spider legs went.

A very clever strategy, if the spider, whose name might be translated as 'Night-like in Color Ben', thought so himself. 'Closed', was it? No entry allowed, was it? Well! They'd see about _that_!

 

"Graaaurgh!" Bernard said. It was, in his humble opinion, an entirely accurate and concise summary of their current situation. No beating around the bush. No sugar-coating the ugly, eight-legged truth.

"Maybe we should open the shop," Manny suggested with the kind of charming naivety that made Bernard want to send him outside for a walk. "Maybe they just want to, you know, buy a book. I could go on a coffee run. Pick up some wine, maybe. Some cigarettes."

Bernard glared at him. "I have _standards_." He'd written 'No spiders from outer space!' on the blackboard six weeks ago now. Four weeks ago, he'd added 'No reducing human customers to a lifeless husk', which Fran had somehow managed to read as 'No seducing Manny', which made no sense whatsoever. Of course, it wasn't as if the actual instruction made much sense either.

Having some lifeless husks around the shop sounded like an ideal alternative to having actual customers who'd talk and chat and buy books. Still, a bit unhygienic. Besides, there was all that screaming and thrashing about and screaming before the soon-to-be lifeless husk had actually reached that happy state.

"Probably haven't got any money, anyway," Manny said, still merrily chugging away on the Happy Manny Express to Happy Lala Land. " 'How many cocooned human corpses for this fourteenth edition of _Psmith in the City'_? What, five? That's too much - I can give you three!' Ha!"

Bernard scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, that one sold out eight months ago." Besides, the cash-register clearly hadn't been designed to take that type of payment. That was Manny for you, of course; never went and thought things through.

 

Crunch-crunch-crunch the spider's jaws went. Very crunchy, these humans were! Tasty, though.

_:Look, Ben. So some of them are holed up in there? And we can't go inside because the sign says so. So what? Adding a drop of honey to your bees will sweeten the sting.:_

_:What are you talking about?:_

_:Hey, I've got a great idea. Why don't we go get One Whose Voice Sounds Like Crying Kittens?_ She'll _know what to do.:_

_:Probably bite both our heads off.:_

_:Well. Yes. Women, eh?:_

 

"Look," Fran said. "Look, look, look. We can stay in here, yeah? Where it's safe?"

She was smoking a cigarette. Bernard wondered if he could kill her and hide the body somewhere Manny would never be able to find it. Probably not.

Besides, she _was_ his oldest friend. She might have some secret supply of cigarettes hidden away somewhere, and if he killed her, he'd never find them. If he _didn't_ kill her and was very, very sneaky and charming and good, she might share. That would be much better.

"Or ... ?" Manny prompted. A collaborator, that was what Manny was. He probably fetched her wine bottles, too, when Bernard wasn't looking, which was never, so ha! Foiled again!

"Well, or we could go out there. Where it's not. And, I mean, what's out there that's _so_ important, anyway?" An excellent point, Bernard conceded. He'd made it himself several times.

Manny considered. "Vegetables? Vegetables are kind of important."

"No, they're really not. Besides, they're right there." Bernard pointed triumphantly.

"Sorry?"

"Vegetables!" Bernard felt annoyed. "Look, there's pictures and everything. You want vegetables, they're all there. Tomatoes and radishes and coleslaw and - and lots of other vegetables."

"Aren't tomatoes technically a fruit though?"

Bernard growled. He didn't know why he put up with this sort of thing, really he didn't. Manny always ordering him around, making Bernard bring him things. As if Bernard didn't have anything else to do.

He did feel some small satisfaction when _'A More or Less Complete Catalog of British Vegetables'_ turned out to be perfectly suited for hitting someone over the head with.

"Ow." Just. Absolutely. Perfect. "Ow. Ow. Ow."

"You know what, you're right. I do feel better. Vegetables, eh? Who'd have guessed?"

Fran laughed. Wonderful sense of humor, had Fran. There was a reason she was his oldest friend.

 

Whine-whine-whine, the spider queen went.

Which was, some people might argue, better than snap-snap-snap. Bite a man's head clean off. Poor sods weren't supposed to feel a thing. Night-like in Color'd believe _that_ when one of 'em would actually tell him - and probably not even then. Dying people talked crazy; everybody knew that.

Living people, too, often. Case in point:

_:So, anyway, that's how it is. What do you think?:_

 

The ground shook. Books fell, which was good - Manny'd been lazing about all day, practically begging for something to do, and now here it was. Prayers answered. A few hours during which everything would seem to be right with the world: Manny working, Bernard and Fran watching, drinking and smoking. The simple pleasures of life.

Bernard was glad he had properly appreciated them when they had been available to him. Seize the moment, that was the ticket. Not putting off until tomorrow what you could drink, smoke or otherwise enjoy today. Hang-overs would wait for no man, woman or child.

"Oh my god." Fran stared.

"What - " Manny turned around. "Oh. Well. That's not very good, is it?"

Hopeless, both of them. Honestly, Bernard had expected better. The discovery that there was, in fact, still an optimist lurking in the depths of his mind was a deeply unpleasant surprise.

Still, he'd never been afraid to own up to his mistakes. The day was not yet lost. Brilliance, genius and charm might yet secure their victory.

He handed out the canisters of insect repellant.

"Lock and load, people. And remember: aim for the eyes."

One day, someone would write a story about this. Poorly, of course. And there would be a terrible picture of someone horribly good-looking on the cover and it would be an absolute flop.

 

_:Graaaurgh!:_

_:You said it, buddy.:_


End file.
